


teen angst has a bodycount

by nowrunalong



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Lost Girl (TV)
Genre: Gen, Interesting People You Meet In Pubs, The Dal (Lost Girl)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29100603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowrunalong/pseuds/nowrunalong
Summary: After the events ofBecoming, Buffy Summers turns up at the Dal Riata.
Relationships: Bo (Lost Girl) & Buffy Summers
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11
Collections: X-Ship - The Crossover Flash Exchange





	teen angst has a bodycount

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRaven/gifts).



> Set early-ish in Lost Girl season 1 for Bo; post-BTVS 2x22 for Buffy.

When Bo turns to super-subtly check that Dyson isn’t around, her gaze catches suddenly on a girl who had appeared in the doorway—not because Bo is interested in a hungry sort of way, but because in the midst of the Dal’s cheerful Irish folk music and very grown-up drinks, the girl seems out of place.

She’s wearing baggy jeans and a grey hoodie, her blonde hair is limp and unwashed, and a big leather overnight bag is slung over her shoulder. Bo recognizes that look. She’d spent enough years on the run to notice when someone else is running, too. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as the girl picks her way through the crowd to the bar.

“From out of town?” Bo overhears Trick say. “You’ll have to sign in.”

The logbook is procured and signed. Bo finishes her beer as she waits for the girl to notice her. People always notice her.

“I’m looking for a job,” the girl tells Trick. “Got any openings?”

“Even if I did, I couldn’t hire you, Buffy. The Dal may not be governed by human liquor licensing laws, technically speaking, but you still need to be twenty-one to serve alcohol. _Or_ to order it,” he adds. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

“Thanks,” Buffy says. She does look at Bo now, but only it’s only the briefest of glances. Looking straight ahead again, she leans her elbows against the bartop and lets out a long breath.

Bo slides over into the stool next to her. “Hey,” she says with a smile.

“Hi.”

“New in town?” Bo asks conversationally.

“You could say I’m not from around here.” Buffy turns a little to face her. A silver cross pendant resting against her sternum catches and reflects the bar lights. “I’m just, uh. Vacationing.”

“Sure.” Bo shrugs like she believes her. “So what kind of Fae are you? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you've got an aura like my friend Kenzi.”

Buffy sniffs her sweater with a concerned frown. “Aura of Greyhound bus?”

“More like 'aura of human'.”

“Right.”

“Except I know you can’t be human, ‘cause Trick got you to sign his magical Fae guestbook. Plus you’re clearly allowed in here without a sponsor. So I’m curious.”

“What have I said about the questions?” Trick says from across the bar.

Bo pouts at him. “Yeah, yeah. ‘Don’t ask so many questions.’”

“It’s okay,” Buffy says to Trick, as he deposits a glass of water in front of her. To Bo, she says, “You’re Bo, right? The unaligned Succubus.”

“Is that what people are calling me?”

“Is it true?”

“Yes,” Bo says.

“I’m the Slayer,” Buffy tells her.

“The what? Oh crap, you’re not one of those creepy headless guys, are you?”

Trick offers Bo another drink, and then says, “She’s not a Dullahan. The Slayer is unique in our world. Like you, she isn’t aligned with either the Light or Dark clan. She’s the only being on the planet who is resistant to the powers of every species of Fae. She’s every bit as strong as you are. And she doesn’t have to feed on humans, because biologically-speaking, she _is_ human.” 

“Wow,” Bo says. “So if you don’t kill people, how come you’re on the lam?”

Buffy blanches at that, her fingers gripping her water glass so tightly Bo thinks for a second it will shatter in her hand.

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” she adds quickly. “I wasn’t trying to be insensitive.” Bo reaches a hand out to touch Buffy’s upper arm, gentle and empathetic. “I know what it’s like to be where you are. When I saw you come in here, I was honestly hoping you were just being a dramatic teen or something. You know, like normal people get to be.”

That gets an almost-smile out of Buffy. “Normal,” she echoes. “I think I missed that exit.”

“I hear ya,” Bo says. “You want a drink?”

“She can’t have a drink,” Trick calls to her.

Bo rolls her eyes. “Come on. You’ve _got_ to have something more fun than water.”

“Coca-Cola?” Trick suggests.

“The Fae drink Coke?” Bo asks skeptically.

“Everyone drinks Coke.”

Once the soda had been delivered to Buffy and Bo had acquired something throat-tinglingly alcoholic, she asks, “So what do you do, if you’re not a horror movie mercenary? ‘Slayer’ isn’t exactly the most cuddly title.”

“I don’t kill people,” Buffy says. “I kill demons.” At Bo’s frown, she adds, “Under Fae. Devolved Fae who aren’t part of the Light-Dark political whatsit anymore. When they get clever ideas about eating people, I slay.”

“So it’s a job?” Bo asks.

“Not exactly. Might be worth if it came with a salary and a pension.” Buffy sips her Coke, a hint of sarcasm colouring her next words. “It’s a ‘sacred calling’.”

“Sounds like a crappy deal. How old are you? Sixteen?”

“Seventeen.”

Bo was seventeen when she ran away, too.

“I have a place,” Bo finds herself saying. “It’s not much, but there’s a couch. We wouldn’t charge you anything to stay. ‘We’ is me and Kenzi, my friend.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, hesitant. “I—I don’t know. I only just—I mean, are you sure?”

“As long as you don’t eat Kenzi’s leftover pizza, we’ll all get along just fine.” More seriously, Bo says, “I meant it when I said that I can relate to what you’re going through. I was on the run for ten years. That entire time, I didn’t even know what I was. I thought that I was cursed. That I was some kind of monster. I don’t know the specifics of your situation. But I know what it’s like to feel lost… to feel all alone.”

“They think I—“ Buffy starts. But she doesn’t finish her sentence. She swallows a mouthful of Coke instead. If she weren’t some kind of superhuman, Bo thinks she’d be shaking. Her hands are steady, though, like she can’t help but to be strong, even when she doesn’t feel it.

“Do you want to get some sleep?” Bo asks.

Buffy looks up at her. There are no shadows under her eyes, but she nevertheless has the look of someone who is profoundly tired—and profoundly sad. “That would be nice,” she says quietly.

“I’ll call Kenzi,” Bo says. “I think we have a few extra blankets somewhere.”


End file.
